


We're Pretty Sure That's a Superpower

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tim Drake is very tired, and Jason Todd is a terrible influence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Pretty Sure That's a Superpower

Damian Wayne is conflicted, which doesn’t happen very often. What should he do?  
_I am an assassin,_ he reminds himself. _A very mature, serious assassin who should behave accordingly._ But then he peeks through the door again, and really, it would be a shame to waste this opportunity.  
Drake is asleep in one of Father’s armchairs. He looks like he dozed off halfway through a yawn— he’s sideways with his head on one armrest and his legs on the other. One knee up, one draped across. His hand is resting in a mound of papers strewn across the floor.  
“Come on,” Todd whispers. “You know you want to.”  
Okay, screw it. He’s not _that_ mature.  
Anyway, people are always telling him to act his age. Damian slips inside the door and approaches Drake on tiptoe, stopping in front of him. Todd gives him a thumbs up from the hallway— he’s got his phone out, ready to record. Here goes.  
Damian nudges Drake’s leg off the armrest and ducks behind the chair.  
You would think that would wake him up, but it doesn’t. Drake’s hanging half-off his seat, but he’s still asleep. He mutters something about clones.  
Damian glances back at Todd, who shrugs and motions him forward. Okay, round two.  
He stands up carefully, shoves Drake’s remaining knee towards the edge, and sprints for the door.  
Drake topples out of his chair with a thump. “What the—?” He blinks confusedly at the carpet, squinting at it like it just betrayed his trust. He doesn’t see his brothers peering around the doorframe, or Todd’s phone, which he left propped against the wall.  
Drake just scrapes his papers into a pillow and curls up on the floor. Ten seconds later, he’s asleep again, napping in his pile of case notes.


End file.
